


Nicotine

by hollowbirds (torturousthings)



Series: Written About You [4]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Ryden, nicotine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torturousthings/pseuds/hollowbirds
Summary: “Like cigarettes, huh? Like goddamned nicotine. I should’ve known.”





	

He nodded and Brendon’s guts twisted. So this was it. 

 

No more midnight kisses, no more shared cigarettes. Even though he’d been thinking about this very moment for ages now, Brendon couldn’t really process that it was really happening. They were breaking up. 

 

“For our own good,” Brendon had said, regretting the words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth. Ryan had agreed silently, not looking at him. Brendon had tried to explain, but being coherent seemed like a challenge right then.

 

“See, you’re like..” He paused. Which metaphor wouldn’t upset Ryan? Not that Brendon could hurt him any more, given the look on his face. “You’re addictive, Ry. I can’t ever get enough. And that’s not okay.” The last word caught in his throat as if his own body was rejecting the situation. 

 

Ryan looked up at him. His eyes were dry and his lips were pressed together, forming a thin line. His hand suddenly went to his jacket pocket, his breath forming clouds in the cold December air. Brendon tried to see what he was looking for. A pack of cigarettes. Now he had that metaphor. 

 

“You’re like—”

 

“Like cigarettes, huh? Like goddamned nicotine. I should’ve known,” Ryan laughed wryly as he lit one and brought it to his lips. 

 

Brendon couldn’t tell whether it was smoke or Ryan’s breath now. His gaze followed as the white cloud faded into the night sky. He didn’t dare to look back down, feeling the wind prick the warm skin of his neck. He’d forgotten to bring a scarf. 

 

He knew he’d have to look at Ryan eventually, though. Pretending to stargaze wasn’t going to make it; there was too much light to see any of them. When he finally dropped his gaze back to Ryan’s face, his cigarette was nearly finished. Blowing out the last of the smoke, Ryan threw the stub over the bridge they were standing on. He knew Brendon hated that. 

 

“Look, maybe we can, I don’t know, stay friends or something,” Brendon tempted, and knew it hadn’t been the right thing to say as Ryan’s brows knit together. 

 

“No.” 

 

The word echoed in Brendon’s head, making him dizzy. He felt ridiculous. No one broke up like this. He looked at Ryan’s mouth, the light stubble covering his chin. There must’ve been something in Brendon’s eyes, because Ryan walked closer, the “no” fading from his lips. His eyes softened, looking black in the weak light of the bridge. Brendon breathed in. 

 

“Last one,” Ryan whispered as their lips crashed together, both desperate to get one last taste of the other, to have each other’s lingering kiss, something to remember, the shadow of a past toxic love. 

 

By the time Brendon broke the kiss, he was pretty sure his heart was broken too. Ryan’s eyes were dark with desire that would never be satisfied. And he knew it. 

 

Watching Ryan’s figure disappear into the darkness on the other side of the bridge was like seeing the ending credits of a movie you loved but could never watch again. Brendon licked his lips and immediately regretted it, regretted the taste his tongue had brought back to his mouth. 

 

Cigarettes.


End file.
